


Treacherous

by NRGburst



Category: Dragons: Riders of Berk (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hisstory/Herstory, Rare Pairings, Songfic, Trope Subversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-18 01:56:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2330972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NRGburst/pseuds/NRGburst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because the most important person in her life has always been him/Because changing allegiances isn't easy. (Ruffret)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Treacherous

 

 

_This slope is treacherous_

_This path is reckless_

_This slope is treacherous_

_And I, I, I like it_

 

 

Ruffnut’s a girl on a mission and she’s been on the hunt all morning. So when she finally spots her objective, she makes a beeline through Meade hall, plopping herself down determinedly. 

“Hey Astrid. You’re a girl.”

“Uh- yeah?” 

“And you have a boyfriend.”

Astrid is trying to bolt down lunch as fast as possible, but this makes her stop and look up with disbelief. 

“You know we’re getting married, right? I just spent the whole morning getting pinned and measured instead of doing something actually useful,” she grumbles. 

Ruffnut rolls her eyes. “We’re making your bedspread, _duh_. Just… how’d you get him to, you know- _like_ you?” 

Astrid’s eyes widen. _Oh._

“Well, we were friends for a long time before… things changed.” 

“Yeah, but what did you _do_?” 

Astrid flushes. “I- it’s kind of-“ She shrugs uncomfortably. “I confronted him about what kind of friends we were.”

Ruffnut slouches, frowning. “So he already liked you.” 

Astrid smiles tenderly, remembering. “I guess.”

Ruffnut groans. “I’m not as pretty as you though!”

Astrid frowns, giving her a sharp look. “You’re pretty! But that’s only part of it anyway.” 

Ruffnut gives her a disbelieving look. As if Hiccup’s not been making moon eyes at her since they were kids.

Astrid tilts her head, arching a brow dangerously. “You think Hiccup wants to marry me because I’m _pretty_? Or because I’m _me_?” 

Ruffnut makes a face. Astrid is always so _touchy_ about the Hiccup thing. But she supposes the two of them are always blahblahblah-ing about something or other even when the rest of them had tuned out ages ago. “Both?” 

Astrid shrugs, frowning. “Well, the way I see it there’s two parts. The liking and the… wanting. And the first is _really_ important- Hiccup and I liked each other a lot before we… got to the second part. I know you think Eret’s attractive.” 

Ruffnut sighs dreamily, thinking of those amazing arms. “He’s the hunkiest piece of man on the island.” 

Astrid smiles indulgently. “Well… that’s a matter of opinion. But maybe try to find out if you even _like_ each other. Who knows- maybe you’ll hate him. He used to be a dragon trapper; his men are…” Astrid rolls her eyes. “Well, sometimes they say things that make me want to punch them. Or maybe you’ll realize you like Snotlout or Fishlegs better. Both of them are pretty sweet on you and you like them.” 

Ruffnut snorts. “Yeah, but I don’t _like_ like them. They don’t make me _feel_ things, you know?”

Astrid nods. “Yeah. So… hang out. Figure out if you can be _friends_. If he can see you the way you see him. And-“ She scrunches up her nose. “Dial back the grabbiness. I mean, it skeeves us out when Snot does it.”

Ruffnut pouts. “But Eret’s so muscle-y! And the accent…and the arms…” 

“ _Are his_. You know how we don’t touch dragons until they give the go ahead? It’s the same thing.” 

“So if I’m too pushy I won’t be able to train him.” 

Astrid opens and closes her mouth before nodding firmly. “Right.”

“Huh. Okay.” Her brow smoothes- dragons she can handle. “Think if I bring him some fish it’ll help?”

Astrid laughs. “You know? It couldn’t hurt.” 

Ruffnut nods, giving Astrid a crooked smile before swinging her leg over the bench to leave. “Thanks.”

Astrid shrugs and shakes her head, smiling. They really _are_ all growing up. 

Well, mostly. 

“Maybe cook it first!” she calls out, and exhales with relief when she sees Ruffnut’s hand wave in acknowledgement.

 

 

A couple hours later, Ruffnut wraps a dish of baked salmon seasoned with sea salt, onions and dill in a red kerchief. Eret and his men are off with Astrid getting another installment in their crash course in living among dragons, so she’s unaccosted when she climbs on board their ship. She cautiously opens the door to the aft section, looking around at the unmade bunks before stepping inside. There’s a table bolted to the floor, so she shoves aside a couple half empty mugs so she can set her dish in the center of it, hesitating only a second before adding the note.

_Sorry about the touching. Hope you like Berk._

_I’ll do anything you say_

_If you say it with your hands_

_I’d be smart to walk away_

_But you’re quicksand_

 

 

 

Tuffnut glares but doesn’t get up from his sprawl in the corner when Ruffnut saunters into their stable in the Hanger. “Where have _you_ been?”

Ruffnut shrugs, glowering before looking away. “I had something to do, okay? You got all the stuff?”

Barf and Belch crane their heads toward Ruff, mouths falling open in their happiness to see her, and she smiles and offers caresses, unfazed by their malodorous breath. They sniff eagerly and bump their heads against her pockets expectantly. 

“Sorry guys. I cooked it. We’ll find you each a fat one later, ‘kay?” 

Tuff frowns. “You were cooking salmon? We’ve got like, a billion batches of dye to make. I had to load Barf and Belch up by myself, you know.” 

“Oh, boohoo. Like it killed you to do a little work.” 

Tuff makes a disgusted face. “Were you cooking for that Eret guy?”

Ruffnut glares and clambers up onto Barf. “Why do _you_ care? I’m here now and you’ve just been sleeping or whatever anyway. Let’s just go.”

Tuff narrows his eyes, climbing reluctantly to his feet. “You know, some of his guys are talking about leaving Berk anyway. All the free roaming dragons freak them out. Sissies." 

That gets her stunned attention. “What? But they’re in orientation with Astrid right now.”

Tuffnut shrugs.

She tries to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut. “Whatever. Eret said he’d take care of Skullcrusher.” 

Tuff sneers. “As if Hiccup couldn’t just ask his mom to do it. I bet she’d do a better job than some former trapper guy anyway. Plus Eret’s got to take care of his men first, right?” 

That completely deflates Ruffnut’s bubble, and she slouches in the saddle, frowning.

Seeing her so unhappy just irritates Tuff more. “Why don’t you just settle for Snot or ‘Legs and stop wasting our time? We’ve got a job, you know. And he doesn’t like you anyway.” 

She glares rebelliously. “He could! He just doesn’t know me yet.”

“Yeah, right. I know you better than anybody and most days I can’t even stand you.”

Ruffnut leaps off of Barf and punches her twin in the stomach, making him double over before she shoves him back into the straw. “Fine! I’ll work on my own, then. I’m doing yellow!” 

“How? I’ve got all the onion skins!” he points out, gasping.

She smirks back at him as she strides out and his jaw drops.

“Hey- did you get the saffron from Hiccup? _But that belongs to both of us!_ ” he shouts, scrambling after her. “Tricky, conniving little… c’mon guys! That stuff is worth like, half a dozen sheep.”

Barf and Belch look at each other resignedly and slink out after him. _Typical._

 

 

_I can’t decide if it’s a choice_

_Getting swept away_

_I hear the sound of my own voice_

_Asking you to stay_

 

 

A few hours later, Ruffnut sits outside, venting her frustrations constructively by shredding a pile of madder root. Tuffnut is inside stirring the yarn so that the dye takes evenly. She’s still pleased that she’d managed to get Hiccup to part with it: the brilliant yellow/orange that had immediately bled out of that crumbly ounce of saffron had made them grin and high five over the vat, despite their lingering annoyance at each other.

The strong odors that go with making and fixing dye have never bothered her or Tuff. Even as kids they’d always had that- others might get lightheaded or start coughing or crying upon entering the workshop behind the Thorston sheepfold, but the two of them actually kind of like the powerful stimulation. Ditto the colors they produce- sometimes so unlike the constituent ingredients or even the pungent contents of the vats.

It makes sense that Zippleback gas has never fazed them; that Barf and Belch seem to be made for the two of them. Very few Berkians even attempt to train Zipplebacks- two heads make for double the amount of training.

And that is its own frustrating conundrum: having to always, _always_ share. That connection they have is handy: their parents had been the first to capitalize on the way they spin and weave with enviable synchronicity. But any payment always has to be split and they’re as good as grounded without the other around to co-ride. Getting separate rooms after puberty had been a battle; even their individual contributions to the family business are linked and impossible to separate: Tuff’s eye for color and design is surely as valuable as Ruff’s skill at bargaining and creating dyes. 

It’s so hard to feel like more than half a person sometimes.

So it’s weird that they’re finally out of sync.

She wonders sometimes why Tuff seems so unaffected by the growth spurts that have made them all taller and hairier and much more interested in pairing up. Hiccup and Astrid fell for each other pretty much as soon as they started sprouting, and Snotlout and Fishlegs have been annoying her with their stupid overtures for months. 

But Tuff just seems uninterested, even baffled.

She doesn’t get it- doesn’t he feel the same things? They’ve never _not_ developed at the same pace- they’re still the same height, same helmet and boot size. 

For all the chafing to be recognized for herself, it’s lonely somehow to be out of step.

Plus the way he acts like she’s betraying him by wanting someone at all?

Actually upsets her more than thinking about Eret leaving.

She grits her teeth and shreds some more root.

“Hey! Uh- Ruffnut!”

She looks up, blinking owlishly in surprise. And straightens, grinning delightedly. _Wow, Astrid’s advice totally worked._

Eret puffs as he climbs up the hill, eyeing her warily. But he swaggers a bit once he gets a bit closer, tilting his chin up. 

“Was that fish from you?” 

She shrugs and leans her chin on her hand, heedless of the red stains down her palms and the dagger. “Thorston family specialty.”

“Yeah? It was good- I wanted to say thanks. We --my men and I-- enjoyed it.”

She keeps smiling, enjoying the view immensely. “Oh, my pleasure.”

He eyes her appraisingly before smiling, putting a hand rakishly on his hip. “So- I hear you Thorstons are the ones to come to for dyeing and weaving.”

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah, that’s us. Wool or linen, any color under the sun. We’re working on a commission for the Chief now… but I might be able to squeeze you in, depending.” 

Eret nods and leans forward, all confident charm. “Well, seeing as how your Zippleback tore our sail, I was… hoping you wouldn’t mind replacing it.”

Ruffnut blinks and shakes her head, snorting. “Free sailcloth? Sorry. No way. That’s like, three weeks weaving for me and Tuff, not to mention the prep and the dye. We were rescuing Hiccup under the Chief’s orders- you were the bad guys, remember?”

His eyebrows knit together in consternation. “Well, that’s a matter of perspective, isn’t it? All on the same side now, but we’ve still got a bum sail.”

She makes a face, unconvinced. “Didn’t your guys fix it anyway? Managed to make it here.”

He shakes his head, lips pressed together. “Torn too badly for the stitching to hold permanently. It needs replacing or we could lose the whole sail while out at sea. And the bottom has sort of dropped out of the dragon market and we’re eating from your Chief’s table, so…” He sighs and looks at her imploringly. “Some of my men just want to get back to where they have family. Start over. And that journey will take weeks and require a proper sail.” 

So Tuff was right. She chews her lip and looks down- she hadn’t thought about Eret having a hard time here. A family somewhere. Obligations. 

Pretty lousy to be stranded far from home. 

She looks at him, eyebrows knit together. “I guess… there’s one ingredient we need that will be easier to get if we have a boat.”

Eret’s face relaxes in relief. “Yeah?” 

“Sure. Way easier to find a Scauldron with a ship.” 

Eret blinks and double takes, giving an exasperated laugh. “An _actual_ Scauldron? Is there _any_ dragon you Berkians don’t train?”

Ruffnut shrugs. “Ahhh, I’m the only one who’s trained one. It’s not like, common or anything. Even Hiccup hasn’t done it.”

He smiles with grudging respect. “Is that right?” 

She gives him a lopsided grin. “I think he’s just not crazy enough, but don’t tell him.” 

That makes Eret grin. “Bit of a straight arrow for sure, that Chief of yours.” 

Their eyes meet and they smile with a kind of newfound understanding before the door behind her suddenly opens. 

“Hey. Who’s-“ Tuffnut’s eyes narrow at the tableau before him. “What are _you_ doing here?”

Eret coughs, wheezes and steps back as the fumes from inside the workshop billow out. “Just bargaining for a bit of sailcloth.” 

Tuff frowns, giving his sister a warning shake of the head and Ruffnut glares back. As if she’d bargain like an idiot just because Eret’s arms are so nicely shaped. 

“We can use his boat and crew to help us collect whelks with Scauldy. Would take us days otherwise to get a decent amount,” she argues.

“For _sailcloth_? As if making Hiccup’s artsy fartsy thing isn’t enough for the next few weeks! When are we going to have time to do the beetling and scutching and spinning for sailcloth too? ‘Sides, Snotlout would give you a ride for free just to like, be near you or whatever.”

Ruff rolls her eyes, shuddering, and pointedly ignores the last bit. “Well, we tore the stupid sail! Who else is he going to ask?” She looks at Eret and lifts a shoulder reluctantly. “Tuff’s right, though. Sailcloth is an awful lot of work.” 

Eret gestures placatingly. “Look, we’re happy to join the queue. The wedding’s in a few months, yeah? Should be done by then? And I’ve got a bunch of men happy to do whatever it takes to get home. Just say the word and we’ll help with your beetling and scutching and spinning.” 

“We do all the spinning,” they both interject automatically. 

Eret blinks.

Tuffnut waves a hand dismissively. “Waste of fiber if anybody else even tries.” 

Ruffnut nods. “But it would be nice to have help with everything else…” She gives Eret an appraising look. “You have ten men?” 

Eret nods. “And myself. We need to work for Hiccup too- we’re eating from his table. But we’re almost done rebuilding the last few houses so...” 

Ruffnut shares a look with Tuffnut. They enjoy beetling- who doesn’t like whacking stuff, even if it’s just some innocent flax? But scutching is tedious and retting will take time anyway. Plus they do need the whelks. 

Eret looks from one to the other. “So do we have a deal?” 

Tuffnut rolls his eyes and shrugs, looking away.

Satisfied, Ruffnut smiles and spits into her hand, stretching it towards Eret. 

Eret can’t hide his surprise, but he only hesitates a second before he spits into his palm and grips her hand.

_All we are is skin and bone_

_Trained to get along_

_Forever going with the flow_

_But you’re friction_

 

They set sail on what should be a rest day, but it can’t be helped- Hiccup and Astrid have bumped their wedding date up rather precipitously and the whole village is scrambling to get everything in place in time. 

Everybody knows _why_ even if nobody talks about it beyond the meaningful raises of eyebrows, grins and shakes of the head. And Ruffnut’s never been one _not_ to make the most of an opportunity: the extra concessions she’s been able to squeeze out of Hiccup are making the project extremely profitable. 

Still, it means they have to get a really good crop of whelks as soon as possible- it will take time to process the dye and get the yarn the proper shade, and Tuff insists that they need purple. 

So they all keep a sharp eye out: Scauldy’s territory is vast, but tidal class dragons have a tendency to check out ships heading to and from Berk now. Offerings of fish make it a fun game of sorts for the normally reclusive dragons.

“Head! Off the starboard quarter!” calls Teeny. Eret nods approval, acknowledging first spotter.

Ruffnut runs aft and grins: it’s a Scauldron. 

It breaches enthusiastically upon spotting her and she whoops and waves her arms. “Scauldy!”

Eret signals Ug and Starkard to reef the sails, and Scauldy closes the distance between them even faster as the ship slows. 

In the meantime, Ruffnut shucks her boots and leaps overboard. 

Tuff snorts and saunters to the fish buckets when the other men shout at the sound of the splash, watching her swim towards the massive Scauldron bearing down on them. 

Scauldy scoops her up a moment later and she wraps her arms around as much of his head as she can, all smiles. “Aww, I missed you too, you big lug!” 

“Incredible,” Eret breathes, shaking his head.

Girl and dragon greet each other enthusiastically for a couple minutes, with her exclaiming proudly over his new growth and him sniffing constantly at her hair before she clambers onto the back of his neck and pats his cheek. “Come on closer to the ship. There are some guys I want you to meet.” 

He obeys, although he hisses and bares his teeth, rearing back from the strangers after he deposits her back onboard.

Tuffnut shoulders Eret’s men aside. “Hey, Scauldy.” 

He flips some mackerel up and Scauldy happily snatches it mid-air before looking down again expectantly. 

They all hastily grab their own buckets and follow Tuff’s example. 

Ruff wrings water out of her hair and clothes, wrapping herself in a blanket before she joins in, constantly crooning reassurances until the dragon has visibly mellowed, lulled by both her presence and a full stomach. 

“Hey Scauldy. I got a favor to ask you,” she says, reaching her hand up. 

He nudges it, trusting. 

“Think you could help us hunt down some more of these?” she asks, pulling a few empty whelk shells out of her pocket for him to inspect. 

He sniffs, nods, and then ducks down so that she can clamber back onto his neck. 

“Your boat goes pretty fast, right?” she calls to Eret. Scauldy turns and the ship sways as the water churns around him. 

He smiles, exasperated. “She’s built for speed, but you really want us to race a Scauldron?”

She grins back. “Just try not to lose us!”

Eret shakes his head, but immediately signals his men, who hurry to their positions. “Well you heard her, men! Ready about, watch the boom. Damned if we’re not going to make a good show of it!”

 

 

* * *

 

Scauldy leads them to a tiny island with rocky beaches, and they dig and dive for dog whelks and take turns gutting. All they need from the whelks is a certain vein, which they carefully remove and place in salt before putting the rest of the flesh aside to feed Scauldy. He accepts the offerings gladly after dragging himself ashore and disgorging the whelks he’s found in deeper water from his pouch with a clatter.

Everybody’s in good spirits- Eret’s men are happy to be out on the water again, and working with a dragon as massive and wild as a Scauldron impresses even the most jaded of them. Plus Ruffnut can’t help feeling smug over how fast they’re collecting the veins: it usually takes her and Tuff several days, a lot of sunburn and equally inflamed tempers.

The view is awesome too-- they’ve all taken their furs off to work in the water and wet linen doesn’t leave much to the imagination. It’s a shame she’s too busy to gawk at Eret’s hot body the whole time but she’s not giving Tuffnut any more reason to complain. Besides, Eret walks into her line of view enough that she can afford not to crane her neck away from her work. 

It also makes her laugh when Scauldy emerges and the men all go scrambling out of his way so he can wiggle and flop his way over to her. 

A tidy profit, a hunky man to look at and undivided dragon affection: what more could a girl want?

But within a couple hours they have enough salted and sunning, and Eret organizes his guys into making a fire on the beach and getting some food caught and cooked- skewered fish and grilled shellfish. Her and Tuff share their bread and cheese and they all have a good meal before they start the journey home.

Scauldy keeps pace with the ship until they reach the edge of his territory. They’re both feeling a bit sad so she sings him lullabies, rubbing his head reassuringly. It’s like this every time she visits- she wishes he lived in like, the harbor or something. 

“ _You’re my Scauldy and I love you so, so glad to visit but it’s time to go._ ” 

He’s gentle when he deposits her back on the ship and she sighs when he turns and submerges. 

They’re all feeling pleasantly tired as they sail back with the wind humming gently in the lines, trading dragon stories and tall tales while they relax on deck. A couple of Eret’s men bring up a keg from below, and they all grab a mug.

Ruff doesn’t know what Astrid was talking about: Eret’s men are great. She and Tuff fit right in- their jokes and stories are appreciated and they all let off steam in much the same way.

Working with them is actually _fun_.

“Ruffnut.”

“Yeah?” She’s feeling pleasantly buzzed, and she smiles lazily at Eret as he approaches.

“That was amazing, how you handled that Scaul- Scauldy. You’re one of the best dragon wranglers on Berk, I bet.”

She blinks and tucks her hair behind her ear, confused and pleased. It’s so weird to get a compliment about herself rather than her looks. And it’s not even half an insult.

“Uh- thanks. You’re pretty good too- Scauldy actually let you touch him. He didn’t even let Tuff do that for ages, even when he’d beached himself pretty bad.” 

Eret grins, shrugging modestly. “Ahhh, I think it was the consistent bribery. Noticed he seemed to prefer the sole.” 

She tilts her head appreciatively. “Yeah, he does. It’s cool of you to notice.” 

He shakes his head. “Just my job. Well- former job.” 

He looks away and she eyes him, frowning. “How’d you get into dragon trapping anyway?”

“Ah- it’s a long tale. Dark and depressing to boot.” 

She sits up, non-plussed. “So what? I wanna hear it.” 

“Yeah?” He's wary- most Berkians give them a wide berth still.

“Yeah. Not going to judge or anything. Just curious where you all come from.” 

He studies her for a second, his expression softening before he settles next to her. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Hey Tuffnut- fill us up, will you?” 

Tuff takes their mugs and complies, albeit reluctantly, giving Ruffnut a warning look and almost imperceptible shake of his head as he hands her back her mug.

She frowns back, shrugging, and turns to Eret. _What’s Tuff’s problem anyway?_

 

 

_Your name has echoed through my mind_

_And I just think you should (think you should know)_

_That nothing safe is worth the drive_

_And I would follow you (follow you home)_

 

 

Ruffnut’s reluctant to leave Eret and his men once they’ve got the hang of beetling, but dyeing and weaving take priority- time’s running out. 

It’s just annoying being alone with Tuffnut again after enjoying a morning with the guys. He can’t bug her while they’re weaving: they both have to focus on line counts and colors to the exclusion of anything else. But while cooking dye? 

She can’t force him to shut up; can’t even really hit him since they can’t risk knocking over any containers. Every vat in the workshop has a purpose, even the ones holding stale urine. And she needs him to keep the coals giving steady heat while she does the stirring.

Story of her life: she just can't escape him.

“You get that we’re making the sail so Eret can _leave_ , right? Like, what’s the point of being all nice to him?”

“Uh, _duh_. I _like_ him. And it’s just talking- why do you care so much? You have a good time hanging out with the guys too.”

Tuff scowls at the coals. “I don’t know. You’re… acting weird. I don’t like it.” 

That makes her stop stirring and smack at him, annoyed. “Well, it’s not up to you!”

“Didn’t say it was! But you get that pretty much everything you do affects me too, right?” 

She rolls her eyes and slouches over the vat. “So you want me to be miserable. What else is new?”

“It’s not about _you_ all the time! It’s about _me_ , too!” 

“ _Shut up!_ What does _my_ love life have to do with _you_?”

Tuffnut fans the coals a little harder than he should. “Let’s see- you’re late cause you’re cooking for ~ _Eret son of Eret_. You’d have bargained sailcloth – _sailcloth!_ — for practically nothing if I hadn’t been there. You’re supposed to be the smart one of us, okay? But you’re acting really stupid and... he could hurt you real bad. And not in the fun, cool way, with blood and stuff. He’s not some goody-two-shoes like Hiccup. Like, if you were Astrid he could just leave you. Or- take you away on his stupid pirate ship. …And I don’t want either of those to happen, okay?” 

She just gawks, speechless. He’s obviously thought about this. Like, a lot.

She shakes her head and starts to stir slowly again, trying to think of an explanation. “I know. But… it’s like being with Scauldy. Like I know I can’t see him all the time. But we have such a great time when we’re together that it doesn’t really matter. And I _like_ that he’s not…totally tame, cause I’m not either. Besides, we haven’t done anything except hang out.”

“Yeah, but _you want to_ ,” he says, troubled. 

She rolls her eyes and throws up her hands. “ _So_?” 

He jerks his shoulders restlessly. 

“Since when do you play it safe anyway?” she demands, sighing. “Look, I’m not going to run off with him or whatever. We kick ass at weaving and dyeing- I’m not giving that up. But I can’t turn off what I feel. And I don’t want to- I think he kinda likes me now.”

She looks her brother square in the eye. “No fun without a good chance of mayhem, right?” 

Tuffnut makes a face. “Yeah, I totally didn’t mean with like, feelings and stuff.” 

She pouts and stamps with frustration. “Oh _come on,_ Tuff!” 

He rolls his eyes. “Fine, _fine_! But if you end up crying like some girly girl, I get to say ‘I told you so’ and you can’t hit me.”

She makes a hideous expression. “If I say ‘fine’, you’ll get off my back?” 

Tuffnut snorts and spits into his hand, holding it out. 

She spits and they shake before Ruff shoves his shoulder affectionately. _Stupid brother._

 

 

_Put your lips next to mine_

_As long as they don’t touch_

_Out of focus, eye to eye_

_Until the gravity’s too much_

 

The wedding is a big freaking deal- ships from other tribes have been arriving for a week; Meade hall is packed at all times now; Hiccup’s even had a couple Chiefs flown in on dragonback. 

They finish the bedspread just in time, and Hiccup is obviously pleased with their work- he actually looks kinda teary eyed when they unroll it for him. 

“Wow… guys- this is… perfect. You even got the undertones on her wings,” he says, stroking the soft nap of it reverently as he studies the design. 

Tuff grins, shrugging and scuffing his boot on the ground, pleased. “Well, you said the two of you in flight, so. Tried to make it look cool.”

Ruffnut looks over with a smirk- she knows how he sweated over treadling sequences, counts and colors. But even she has to admit the design is pretty cool- it’ll look fine from either the foot or head of the bed, with Toothless and Stormfly chasing each other in a circle and Astrid and Hiccup facing each other in between. 

Practical but pretty, and extravagant enough to be part of a _morgengifu_ from a Chief.

The wedding itself is lots of fun- there are decorations, musicians, plenty of mead flowing and tonnes of food. It’s like an extra fancy Fest with VIPs and Astrid and Hiccup dressed up and doing ceremonial stuff in the center of it all.

Vikings love a good party, and everyone’s dressed up for the occasion: it’s not every day that their Chief gets married. Ruffnut notes with pride the number of people wearing fancy clothes made with Thorston yarns and linens. She’s sporting a new dress in her signature purple herself, accented with a red belt. 

She’s all set to get wasted with Tuff, but Eret spots them as soon as they enter the square. 

“Well, aren’t you a vision? Would you care for a dance?” Eret asks, offering her his hand. 

Tuff jerks his head, smiling resignedly. “I’ll get drinks and meet you guys later, ‘kay?” 

She grins and takes Eret’s arm with a thrill of delight. He’s so freaking _perfect_.

 

 

  _This hope is treacherous_

_This daydream is dangerous_

_This hope is treacherous_

_I, I, I…_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, reference/credit for lyrics from _Treacherous_ by Taylor Swift from “Red” (2012). Writer(s): Daniel Dodd Wilson, Dan Wilson, Taylor Swift  
>  Copyright: Chrysalis Music, Sony/ATV Tree Publishing, Sugar Lake Music, Taylor Swift Music, Sugar Lake Music LLC 
> 
> Inspiration for the blanket design from [this fanart.](http://nrgburst.tumblr.com/post/89457890745/sharpie91-httyd-2-night-and-day-by-sharpie91) What can I say- practical art makes me happy.
> 
> I know, I know. Ruffret is a ship with ZERO fics and barely any fandom support. And a songfic to boot: can’t even put it on ffnet. An actual rolling snowball of unpopular choices: NRG WTF?
> 
> Well, one of my LJ friends wrote [meta on Reign and female roles in romantic tropes](http://12-12-12.livejournal.com/509503.html) and it lit a fire under me about turning my nagging Ruffret idea into a full blown fic.
> 
> Female characters usually have constrained roles in romance: unless a guy likes you first, it’s wrong to chase after him. Who wants to be the cougar, the seductress, the harpy? The scorned, desperate woman? 
> 
> Rejection from a man is absolute; unsolicited female desire is seen as this gross, predatory thing- _and yet the converse is not._ If a man likes you, you WILL come around. So stop fighting; give him a chance even if you find him repugnant. Once you get to know what a Nice Guy he is, you will change your mind. (Even Hiccstrid is arguably based on this, so I’m sort of glad the TV show tore it back down to friendship/mutual crushing.)
> 
> So I wanted to do a little trope flipping since Ruffnut’s desire for Eret is merely played for laughs in HTTYD2, to write a story where Ruff just might win Eret over _by being herself;_ discover there’s more to both of them besides what you can see on the surface. (This is HTTYD fandom after all.) 
> 
> Bonus: the differing needs of co-dependent but individual twins-- how does that not push a writer’s buttons? 
> 
> Plus the song, with its air of frustrated longing, of the insistence on “I, I, I like it”? Is so Ruffret from Ruffnut’s POV that I couldn’t not.
> 
> I tried to avoid typical rape culture trope standards, but if you think I’m being gross as all get out, do let me know. Or you know, if you actually enjoyed the fic, I’d love to hear that too. :P


	2. State of Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because changing allegiances isn't easy.

 

  

_You come around and the armor falls_

_Pierce the room like a cannon ball_

_Now all we know_

_is don’t let go_

 

 

Freedom feels like poor fitting scabbard and Eret would almost rather have the security of contracts and threats.

Almost. He hasn’t forgotten the gnawing anxiety of trying to fill quotas, that abrupt switch from employee to expendable. The scar on his chest aches just thinking about it.

But part of him longs for the rush of adrenaline while capturing a dragon; the smug excitement of filling the hold with exotic goods from places they’d only heard of- Drago’s annexed territories had been extensive. Before the supply of wild dragons had dried up, their wrangling skills had enabled them to live large and proud. 

Now they’re living on the good graces of a Viking Chief five years his junior, with little more than the ship, the skins on their backs and the things they’d scavenged from the Fort. And what good are catapults and manglers on an island as peaceful as Berk?

He’s got a finger on the pulse of his crew; understands how out of place and rudderless they feel. It’s taken a few weeks, but they’ve mostly gotten used to the sight of dragons roosting on homes like overgrown seabirds and running around playing with children. 

They’ve been helping with reconstruction; lending hands when a fishing boat comes back heavy laden. But they can't help feeling like outsiders: the lifestyle and even the way Berkians think still isn't second nature. And just putting food in their stomachs and slowly earning a bit of trade is a big step down from the old days of swaggering home rich and proud as kings. 

They all concede that it’s better than a death sentence though, and without Drago around they would be out of work anyway: no demand means no market. They’ve all got to get back and reassess their options. 

Asp and Coron have families to provide for, a couple of the other fellas have girls waiting; his folks are not the only ones who have to be worrying and wondering why they haven’t returned now that Drago’s armada has scattered. So now that Hiccup and Astrid are holed up being newlyweds, they’ve been working for the Thorstons full time, trading their labor for the sailcloth they need so badly. 

Which brings his thoughts back to Ruffnut yet again. 

Berkian women are free and equal to their men, able to own property and work trades- probably why they’re all so confidently out-spoken. He’s gone from finding Ruff shocking, to intriguing, to flat out admiration. His men have been ribbing him about how he always manages to end up in her company nowadays, and he has to admit he’s more than a little enamored: she’s recklessly uninhibited, a cunningly hard bargainer and amazingly talented at both her craft and dragon training. He thinks of her laugh, those long limbs and the undisguised desire in her eyes more than he should-- he’s in no position to court a girl. But Berkians don’t do anything the way he’s used to and she’s made it clear that she doesn’t need a provider; that she wants him for himself. 

And that holds a disturbing and compelling sort of appeal, even if everything in his upbringing tells him that their attraction is upside down, that her status puts her out of his league, that she’s got two eager home grown suitors who could do better by her.

After all, he doesn’t have an actual position here beyond caring for Skullcrusher. 

They work together every day; his men and him doing all the grunt work while the twins spin and weave. The atmosphere is friendly and they take turns telling rude jokes and wild stories while they keep their hands busy. But the fact that they’re making the very thing that’ll take them away weighs a little more on his mind every day. 

 

 

 

  _And all we know_

_Is touch and go_

 

 

 

Hiccup and Astrid enter Meade Hall to a chorus of catcalls and whoops, and they flush and roll their eyes before they take their seats at the head table. 

They don’t leave for hours- Gobber, Spitelout, Gothi and the other respected members of the community have done their best to take care of village matters in the interim, but there is both plenty to report and plenty to do now that the Chief and his wife have returned.

Eret doesn’t line up at the Hall with the others needing disputes settled. He figures he really only needs a minute, so he runs to catch up to Hiccup when he spots him hurrying toward the Hanger. 

“Chief! Sorry- I know you’ve got a lot on your plate today, but Ruff says you’ve got a map of the area around Berk?”

The harried look on Hiccup’s face immediately relaxes into a smile. _Ruff, huh?_   “Yeah, I do. You're trying to figure out where Berk is in the greater scheme of things?”

“Trying to plot a course, actually. Some of my men need to get home. And Berk is well off the maps I’ve got so I was hoping to put them together.”

Hiccup stops, eyebrows knitting together as he studies Eret’s expression. “Well, we’ll be sorry to see you go. And actually… I would love to get a look at your maps.” 

Eret shrugs noncommittally. “I’m hoping to come back, but it depends on my crew too. Some of them have families and well, Berk is…pretty different from what we’re used to. Anyway, you’re more than welcome to take a gander. They’re just mariners’ maps, but they include most of the civilized world as we know it.” He frowns and quirks his mouth. “Well, _knew_ it. No idea whether borders have changed now that Drago’s armada is out of the picture, but the shape of the land hasn’t.” 

Hiccup inhales and frowns thoughtfully, looking Eret in the eye. “Could you come by my house in the evening and bring them? I should learn as much as I can about Drago before you leave. I doubt we’ve seen the last of him.” 

Eret nods uneasily. “Yeah, of course.”

Hiccup grips his arm reassuringly and smiles. “Thanks. I’ll see you tonight.” 

 

But Eret’s surprised to see Valka sitting next to Astrid when Hiccup lets him in. She lives in her own little room in the Hanger, more at ease among the dragons in the underground stables than in the home that had once been hers. His men give her a wide berth- some still resent her for destroying their Fort; others fear her wrath for their previous occupation. 

Hiccup raises his hands halfway when he sees their wary expressions. “I know you’re not on the best of terms, but my mother is extremely well traveled- she can probably fill in any missing pieces between our maps.” 

Valka nods once, watching him appraisingly.

Eret gives her a cautious bow in return. “Fair enough.” He pulls his maps out of the sealskin case, laying them carefully next to the one spread on the table, and they all crane their necks with interest.

Astrid and Hiccup provide drinks as Eret answers questions about trade goods and history, customs and dragon species. Almost every nation on his maps had been conquered by Drago, and the Berkians frown at the sheer expanse of his territory. 

Eret shrugs; he’s used to the view. “Well, Drago had the biggest army and then an armada. And he built roads and wells, trained and sent healers out. Some people welcomed him with open arms. Always a steady supply of silk and salt, paved roads to travel, fewer dragons stealing horses and cattle- paying a bit of tax doesn’t seem so bad if the big man takes care of you.” 

“But what about freedom?” Valka gasps. 

Eret scratches the back of his neck. “Is anybody ever really free? Unless you start out well off, you can’t always get what you want, yeah? And Drago made it possible to afford a wife and family by enlisting or going into trapping if you’d grown up with no trade. A lot of men saw that as freedom to improve their lot.” 

Astrid frowns. “How about women?” 

Eret looks at Astrid reluctantly. “…Remember how shocked my men were when Hiccup gave you full authority over us? Might be what you’re used to, but where we’re from women submit to the menfolk. I mean, they can improve their station by marrying a rich fellow, but…” 

“Women and dragons are property, not equals,” Valka says, lip curling with obvious distaste.

Eret holds out his hands defensively. “Look, I’m just explaining. I’m not trying to say it’s right or better.”

Ever the peacekeeper, Hiccup intervenes. “Even on this side of the world, Vikings are unique. We’ve always known that Southron kingdoms treat women in much the same way. Anyway, we still need to figure out a course home for you. And I was thinking these two sections should match up, considering where Astrid and I ran into you.”

They all re-focus on attempting to align the Berkian map with the others, with Valka sketching additional islands and a narrow strait to help put the relevant areas in perspective. Eret smiles with relief and dawning comprehension as they trace a route from the waters around Berk back into familiar territory, and Hiccup immediately begins to sketch a new set of maps for Eret to use.

Astrid falls asleep leaning against Hiccup’s shoulder as the conversation lulls, and he automatically slides his right arm around her when he realizes she’s drifted off. Valka tuts and exchanges a look with her son before she gently shakes Astrid. 

“ _To bed with you_. Hiccup and Eret can finish copying the map on their own.” 

Astrid starts, grimacing and giving Hiccup an apologetic look. “I’m sorry- I just can’t seem to keep my eyes open these days.” 

He smiles tenderly. “Pretty sure that’s half my fault. And I don’t need my number two for this, so-- Mom, can you help her get up to bed?” 

“Pregnant, not dying,” Astrid grumbles. But she takes the arm Valka offers anyway.

Hiccup’s eyes are full of disquiet when he looks at Eret once they leave the room. “Thank you for speaking diplomatically. I know it’s been a little rough for you and your men.” 

Eret shrugs, nonplussed. “Not everybody understands where we’re coming from. And we do appreciate your hospitality- fairly used to your way of living now, I’d say. But—no offense intended—some of the men prefer their old way of life, even if it means never getting to bet on a dragonrace again.” 

Hiccup nods. “I understand. We all have to look out for our own,” he says quietly. 

Eret frowns and looks up at him warily. “You need something?”

Hiccup raises an eyebrow and tilts his head. “Information. _Current_ information. Toothless may be the new Alpha, but I don’t want Berk to be caught unprepared again.” 

Eret stills. “You want us to sniff out what we can about Drago.” 

Hiccup looks him in the eye and nods. “If he’s regrouping his forces, I need to know. And I suspect that hired trappers know exactly how to keep track of Drago’s movements.” 

Eret lifts a brow. “Might know which places to ask around, yeah. Last I checked though, he’d ordered my execution. Wasn’t planning to show my face anywhere but our home port.” 

Hiccup keeps sketching, nodding. “Point taken. Would a crate of Gronkle iron weapons make the risk worth your while?”

Eret regards him with surprise, sitting back and smirking. “Well, now you’re speaking a language I understand. But they’d be too distinctive- people would ask where they came from.” He thinks it over- it’s not likely that Drago spotted him in that last battle with all the focus on Hiccup and Toothless, but if there was some way to throw off the scent from a marked trapper gone rogue… “Now, a few crates of quality yarn and linen; a couple crates of paper and fish- that I could trade without raising any eyebrows. Get the news after being off at sea, like.”

Hiccup lifts his brows, considering. “If it would make it easier to pose as traders, I can provide some extra cargo that you can trade for what we can’t get easily get on Berk as well- sealskin, silk, spices.”

Eret inhales and blinks. “You’d trust me?” 

“I trust that you know where to trade and for what. And we can discuss how to split the resulting profits,” Hiccup says, matter of fact.

“That’s not what I meant.” 

Hiccup raises his eyebrows, glancing at Eret. “I know. But I’m also trusting you have reasons to come back to Berk that might be worth more than a one-time haul.”

Eret smiles wryly. “You know, at first I thought she was crazy like all the rest of you. Guess you're not the only persuasive one."

 

 

 

  _We are alone with our changing minds_

_We fall in love ‘til it hurts or bleeds or fades in time_

 

 

 

They all grin as the sails billow out and they pull out into the harbor for a test run. The new sail is made with a tougher ply and far more consistent thickness and Tuff has resist dyed the sails to match, altering the patterns to avoid being too easily recognized. 

The crew are all in fine spirits, and Eret has to admit it does the heart good to see the sail rounding proudly in the wind, to feel the ship coasting effortlessly across the waves. They’ll stow the cargo and supplies tomorrow, and set sail for home on the evening tide. 

So there’s really only one more thing to settle before they leave Berk behind. 

“Listen, Ruff- can I ask you something?” 

Eret touches her arm and she pulls her attention from Tuff’s spirited antics. 

He continues. “I’d love to bring Skullcrusher with me, but I can’t risk it. Be cruel to confine him here for the journey, and I can’t be sure he won’t be harmed when we get back. So- could you look after him for me?” 

She blinks and hesitates. “But- he’s _your_ dragon. I don’t even know if he likes me.” 

Eret shrugs, trying to be casual. “Well, how about I introduce you two properly tonight? Take you on a test flight.”

Her eyes widen and she eyes him speculatively before giving him a pleased grin. “Yeah- I, uh. I’d like that.” 

Eret smiles back before straightening to glare at his men, who are nosily observing the proceedings with obvious delight. “Would you lazy clods get back to work? A few weeks at port and the lot of you are out of practice- just look at the trim!” 

They scramble to right it, but there’s still a chorus of whistles when he strides off the ship later that evening. 

Ruffnut is wearing a fresh tunic gathered with a red linen belt, and he can’t help grinning appreciatively when she opens the door. Her hair’s still damp from the bath and he can smell her skin and soap, a far cry from the usual smell of ammonia and fermentation that clings to her from dye-work and retted flax. He finds himself inhaling deeply as she takes her seat in the saddle in front of him. 

“Hang on- bit of a surge when he takes off,” he warns, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her closer as Skullcrusher does his running leap.

She smiles slyly, bemused. “Uh- okay.”

He notices then that she has a practiced grip on the saddle with both her thighs and hands, but neither of them say anything when he doesn’t move his arm even after they’re aloft. 

It’s a mild night, and Ruff obviously finds Skullcrusher easy to handle: she’s no novice, easily finding the updrafts and automatically talking him through maneuvers.

By the time they land, Eret has fresh appreciation for her riding skill- it’s hard not to wonder if the twins would have more Dragonrace wins if they didn’t bicker so much while competing.

“So what do you say? He’s got a stubborn streak, but he’s a helpful fellow too- helped me track down my ship. And if you need a break from your brother, you’d have a way to take off.”

She shrugs, dismounting and running her hands over Skullcrusher’s carapace before she scratches under his chin. “That was okay, hey Skullcrusher? Your name is cool but it’s way too long.” 

Eret tilts his head as he dismounts, frowning. She’s refusing to look at him and avoiding the topic, which is odd- he’s never known Ruffnut not to be utterly forward. “So… you’d rather not?” 

She rolls her eyes and shrugs, looking away. “It’s not _that._ I mean, if Skullcrusher is okay with it then whatever, fine.” 

He frowns. He was hoping she’d be pleased. “So you don’t want your own personal dragon because…?” 

She looks up, appalled. “You’re _leaving!_ I just- I thought you liked it here! I thought-“ she breaks off and swallows, shoulders slumping. “Forget it.”

He reaches out and grabs at her hand. “Hey- Ruff! Don’t-”

She jerks her hand back, glaring. “ _Stop_ , okay? If you don’t want me, stop jerking me around!”

His jaw drops. “I _do_ want you! But until I've got things sorted, I can’t just- _Oh, sod it_ ,” he growls, and he pulls her close and slants his mouth over hers.

He tells himself it’s just for a minute, that he’s just jumping boundaries because she’s upset.

But she tastes like heaven, and he thinks his heart is going to hammer out of his chest when she moans and pulls him closer, clutching at his neck and hair. 

Screw the potential heartache. It’s just a few minutes and both of them want this.

So he only pulls back enough so he can slant his mouth the other way and get a better grip on her ass when she clambers up him aggressively, and neither of them do much thinking at all for the next few minutes.

It’s not until Skullcrusher grunts and shifts next to them that Eret snaps back to reality and pulls back abruptly. 

“Gods Ruff, I’m sorry,” he gasps, gulping and easing off her. 

She pants, hanging on tenaciously. _“Are you kidding me?_ ” 

He gives her a pained look and firmly extricates himself. “I didn't mean to do this until I had something solid to offer you.” 

She rolls her eyes and groans. “ _Ugh,_ I don’t need you to offer me _stuff_.” 

“Well, maybe _you_ don’t, but your dad is another matter entirely, yeah? I asked Hiccup and he says your bride price is going to be pretty steep. And I’ve got some gold saved, but it’s back home.”

That surprises a baffled smile onto her face. “What?”

“Don’t give me that- you’ve got other suitors,” he says grimly. 

“Yeah, but- my dad has to listen to what _I_ want too. So…” she shrugs and attempts to pull him close again, but Eret’s as strong as he is stubborn.

He’s normally all for unfair advantages over the competition, and he’s incredibly aware of her hands on him and the heady pressure of his own desire. But he needs to do this properly if he intends to have a future here. 

“Snotlout’s a _shipwright_ ,” he reminds her. 

“And his dad’s a tightwad who doesn’t pay him half what he’s worth. ‘Sides, he doesn’t want me anyway,” Ruff says dismissively. 

Eret raises a brow, unconvinced. “He’s pretty persistent for someone who’s not interested.” 

“Meh. He’s just used to wanting stuff he can’t have. Tuff and I call it ‘The Hiccup Effect’.”

Eret blinks at how blasé she is. “That… is one brutal assessment.” 

“Well we grew up with him. Plus Thorston cloth goes for double or triple the rate of normal homespun. Just practical to marry a girl with a good trade.” She shrugs, quirking a brow and studying his chest. “I _know_ I don’t want them. But I wasn’t really ready for how much I want you,” she admits. 

“Hey.” He takes hold of her hand and tilts her chin up. “You’re not the only one who wasn’t ready. Look at it from my perspective: I finally find the perfect girl and she lives on the other side of the world.”

That gets a smile, and his heart aches to see the sadness there. Long voyages are risky and Hiccup’s asked him to raise the stakes even further.

”Look,” he continues, “I know what they say about sailors and promises. And I know it isn’t fair of me to make any claims on you when I’ve got responsibilities that come first. But I’m going to do my best to get enough crew to come back.” 

She looks in his eyes and nods, smiling hopefully. “Seal it with a kiss?” 

He chuckles, exasperated. “You persistent little minx.”

But he obliges anyway.

 

_We are alone just you and me_

_Up in your room and our slates are clean_

_Just twin fire signs_

_Four blue eyes_

 

 

 

Ruffnut doesn’t join Hiccup and Astrid and the other well-wishers on the dock, watching the ship leave the harbor from up high. She doesn’t want anybody to see the tears running down her cheeks, to see Snotlout gloat or Fishlegs smile optimistically. 

Tuffnut finds her anyway, and she doesn’t have to look to know he’s there. 

“I know. I was an idiot,” she says, scrubbing angrily at her cheeks. 

Tuff shrugs. 

She glares. “What, you’re not going to rub it in?”

“Meh. Not as much fun when you say it first.” 

She speaks dully. “He’s a sailor; sailing away is his job, right?” 

Tuff twitches his shoulders. “…Maybe look at it as always sailing back.” 

He’s trying to help, but that just makes her cry in earnest. He offers his shoulder, resigned, and she gives him a grateful look before leaning on it. 

Spending time with Eret was supposed to get him to like her more. She hadn’t realized it would do the opposite too.

 

 

 

  _And I never saw you coming_

_And I’ll never be the same_

 

The welcome their ship gets at home is always warm, but this time it’s doubly so: many had feared them lost. The dock is packed and he’s relieved and proud to see all the happy family reunions: the worst thing for any ship’s captain is to face a widow’s tears. 

And it’s so good to be back, to hear the normal cadence of speech everywhere, see familiar faces and smell familiar foods cooking. And he knows the drill without having to ask: he’s got a list of repairs and he heads down the dock to find the dockmaster to pay his mooring fee, catch up with the news and suss out the market. The fish they’d caught, dried and salted into barrels on the way home will be enough to trade for repairs and supplies and the remainder will be split between the crew. It’s a small haul considering how long they were out, but combined with the Berkian goods each man had brought back, the trip was not a total bust, at least.

He finally heads home once those last responsibilities have been discharged.

His mother has pulled out all the stops- he’s never been away so long and she has his favorites cooking: venison and seal. His father claps him on the back and pours him some strong liquor after he puts down his duffel and presses a kiss to his mother’s cheek.

“So what happened? Longest haul you’ve been on yet- got caught up in whatever the armada ran into?” 

“Yeah, something like. Our fort was destroyed by this vigilante and well… on the way to rendezvous with the armada our sail took damage as well. We’ve been on Berk, a Viking island, for a couple months, earning the sailcloth for a new sail.” 

His eyebrows shoot up. “Vikings, eh? Aren’t they a bloodthirsty lot?” 

Eret tilts his head. “They’re skilled with weapons. But Berk’s Chief prefers negotiations to fighting, even if he rides the Night Fury that defeated Drago’s big Alpha.”

“He _what?_ ” 

“They’re dragon riders. And they took exception to being conquered,” Eret says simply. 

His dad shakes his head and sputters, agitated. “So he's the one to blame. There’s been nothing but trouble ever since Drago lost the armada- guard dragons rampaging; soldiers not getting paid and going rogue. The price of silk and grain has tripled, and there are rebellions breaking out everywhere.”

Eret frowns. “Well, that’s to be expected when you rule through fear, don’t you think? When loyalty is forced instead of earned and given?”

His father is visibly taken aback by his vehemence.

Eret shakes his head bitterly, downing the rest of his liquor. “You know how far we’d been sailing to fill the quota. And when there weren’t any dragons left to trap...” 

His father stiffens. “Did Drago mark you?” 

His mother gasps and turns from her cooking to look at him, stricken. 

Eret looks away, keeping his voice even. “Tried to have me executed even after I delivered. Well, I learned my lesson. And I got my men and ship out.” 

“But you were the best trapper in the business! _The best_ ,” his mother whispers tearfully.

“ _Relax,_ Mum. I’m _fine_ ,” he lies.

She nods, blinking back tears.

He sighs, knowing there’s one surefire way to distract her. “Also…I met a girl.” 

Her eyes immediately go round, although her mouth twitches- she knows what he’s trying to do. “Well, _finally!_ Well? Where did you meet her? What does she look like? We can convert the girls’ room if you’d prefer a bigger space to bring her home to, can’t we, Eret?”

“Well, we were on Berk for weeks, so-”

“You’ve been caught in the snare of some _Viking_ bird?” his father demands. 

Eret exhales, slightly irritated. “Her name is Ruffnut Thorston; she and her brother wove the sailcloth for our new sail. And she’s not just a weaver and dyer; she’s a dragon trainer and rider as well. She’s tall and pretty-- she’s got blond hair that probably comes past her hips when she lets it down…”

His father waves his hand dismissively. “Looks aren’t everything. And a free woman is a recipe for disaster.”

Eret frowns. “Well, Berk seemed to get along just fine despite half the people being free women. I’ve brought some of her cloth –both linen and wool-- and you can see for yourself why it trades so well. I’ve never seen finer. And she's spirited and funny- the men adore her.”

“Well, where would she get wool or flax here? And how can you get children on her if she doesn’t submit like a proper woman? No, best forget her, son, and stick to our own. There’s a couple new families with available daughters that just arrived from down south, and I’m pretty sure one is a blond with all her teeth. They might be willing to sell low to cover their moving costs.”

Eret grimaces. “Look, Dad-“ 

His father slams his fist down on the table. “ _Enough backtalk about Vikings_. Let’s just have supper and be grateful you made it home.” 

Eret’s twenty-five; he’s been leading men of his own for years. But he still flinches automatically and swallows his troublesome new opinions when his mother shakes her head at him fearfully.

 

The next week is more of the same as the ship undergoes repairs. He avoids mentioning Berk or Ruffnut to keep the peace. He relishes in his mother’s cooking, in the delight of his family with the presents he’s brought back, in how well he sleeps in a proper bed on solid ground.

And it’s hard not to wonder if he’s completely lost his sense of priorities. He’s a first-born son- the house and land will be rightfully his when his father passes, and he can easily switch to fishing local waters. Sure, Hiccup had trusted him with all that cargo, but his crew could certainly use the extra compensation and he doubts Hiccup would take the trouble to hunt them down. He can also easily afford a bride here whereas he has no idea what Ruff’s bride price will be. 

Staying is simple, going back a gamble. 

But he can’t stop thinking and worrying about her and Skullcrusher, about Berk's position as target number one if Drago returns. He misses flying, watching Dragonraces and even has an odd craving for a yak butter parfait. And he can’t stop thinking that his mind has changed about more than dragons when he watches his mother scurry to serve him, sees how his father expects unquestioning obedience.

Besides, he made promises. And he’s always been a sucker for a challenge, and the high risk/high reward possibilities of trading Berkian goods in an untapped Empire market are exactly that.

 So when the repairs are completed, he calls his crew for a meeting. 

“I’d like to sail back to Berk, making a stop at Newhaven and possibly Kilne on the way. Chief Hiccup has entrusted me with a couple tasks, and I intend to keep my word despite the risks. Those who come with me will get their share of the trade and fish.” He pauses. “Another thing I should mention: I’m not sure when we’ll be returning. I quite like Berk. Working for the Chief and the Thorstons brings in decent trade and there's no other place in the world for dragon riding and racing. But I understand if you lads would prefer not to come along. Just give me your decision by tomorrow.”

The men all murmur and mutter as he leaves to let them stew it over. Throughout the day they come to him to give him their decision, and as expected, most elect to stay and try to find a new position. 

Most, but not all: Teeny’s attached to the ship, he says, and he don’t mind getting a bigger slice. Ug is positively itching for the chance to flirt with danger again, and Starkard shrugs, abashed. “Doesn’t feel right _not_ to have dragons ‘round all the time now. Everything's too still and quiet here, like.” 

It’s a small crew, but it’s enough for watches and deck positions.

So they re-supply the ship, stowing barrels of fresh water and meat in saltpeter, sacks of flour, salt and beans. He quietly retrieves the gold he's been saving and trades for presents. And he tells his parents he's got a new contract to fill back east, as if it's business as usual. 

But it's an odd feeling, sailing away from home towards a place that also feels like home. 

_So you were never a saint_

_And I’ve loved in shades of wrong_

_We learn to live with the pain_

_Mosaic broken hearts_

_But this love is brave and wild_

 

 

They’re so busy battening down windows and roofs, securing the boats at dock and herding dragons into the Hanger that Hiccup doesn’t think about the further implications of the storm bearing down on Berk until Valka approaches him urgently.

“Hiccup. This storm comes from the _southwest_.” 

He gives her a harried, questioning look before comprehension dawns. 

“Oh no.” He grimaces. “I’ll tell her. Take over with the baby Nadders?” 

She nods, gripping his shoulder, eyes full of sympathy. 

Tuff and Barf and Belch are herding stragglers off the mountain and Ruff is getting the herd into the sheepfold. Seeing as how it’s nowhere near dark, they’re rather resistant to leave the grassy slopes. 

“Ruffnut. Uh- do you have a second?” 

She shoves a bleating ewe into the pen with her butt and gives Hiccup an annoyed look. 

“Kinda busy here, Chief. Storm’s coming and all these muttonheads want to do is keep grazing.” 

“Yeah- it’s about that. Ruffnut… this storm is coming from the southwest.” 

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head, horrified when she sees the look in his eyes. 

“ _No._ ” 

He immediately tries to offer comforting possibilities. “He might not be on schedule- he said he might have to hire new crew just to sail back. Or he might have taken a different course for any number of reasons. I just… I thought you should know.” 

She nods and swallows hard, ducking her face down and tugging another reluctant sheep into shelter. “Any number of reasons. Okay, Chief.” 

But they both know what Valka had announced that morning when she’d spotted dragons and birds flocking east en masse. 

_We need to prepare the village. It’s a wickedly bad blow or they wouldn’t be fleeing. Dragons don’t abandon a nest unless it would take a miracle to survive._

 

 

 

_This is a state of grace_

_This is the worthwhile fight_

_Love is a ruthless game_

_Unless you play it good and right_

 

 

The stone guardian in the harbor is a sight for sore eyes. And within five minutes of sighting the dock, they have company: Hiccup and Toothless land on deck a couple seconds before Skullcrusher arrives with a thump, butting ecstatically at Eret. 

Hiccup is all smiles as he dismounts. “We’re really glad to see you back safe. There was a wicked storm that came from the southwest a few days ago. We feared the worst.” 

Eret nods, giving Hiccup a wry look over Skullcrusher’s head as he tends to his dragon’s demands for scratches and rubs. “Well, it caught us. Forty-foot seas, sheeting rain, spray hard enough to bruise. Skies were pitch black and there was so much air in the water and vice versa that we could barely tell which side was up. Thought we were done for, that we’d broach or break. But…dragons saved us, bore us through, kept our bow up. Don’t know if you’ve met Scauldy, but it was him and his… pod or whatever. We passed through his territory on the way out, and I guess he was keeping an eye out for us coming back.” 

Hiccup inhales, awed and touched. “They really are amazing creatures.”

“Yeah, whoever heard of sailors _saved_ by dragons, eh? Fed them all the fish we’d got when we finally got clear of it and they seemed pretty chuffed about that but...” Eret laughs ruefully, shaking his head. “It seems I just keep accruing life debts. We didn’t even know they were there at first. Wasn’t until I got swept overboard: hands were numb from wet and cold and the deck was awash already when we took a rogue wave…” He gestures to show the way he went flying and shakes his head grimly. “Went under. And then out of nowhere Scauldy hauled me up and out. Seemed to think I was right daft to be swimming and shoved me back on deck with that look dragons get- you know?” 

Hiccup chuckles, shaking his head. “Oh, I am very familiar.”

Eret nods, extending a hand to the Night Fury. “Yeah, I bet, eh Toothless? Good to see you, too.” 

Toothless rolls his eyes and whuffs, pressing his nose to the offered hand. 

There are so many important issues to talk about: reports of Drago’s retreat down south, the goods in the hold, the revolt and upheaval in previously annexed territories. But he needs to ease his mind about one thing first. “Is Ruffnut all right?”

Hiccup tilts his head and winces. “Well…she tried to search for your ship on Skullcrusher once the storm passed. But he couldn’t find a scent without a lead. We all assumed the worst and… I’ve actually never seen her so upset.” 

Eret cringes. “That bad, eh?” 

Hiccup raises his eyebrows, shrugging. “…Let’s just say you shouldn’t plan on leaving for a while.” 

Eret inhales and nods. 

“Well, turns out the crew have all agreed that we like Berk well enough. We can keep playing trader for you if needs be—I think you’ll be pleased with how well we did, on both fronts. And we’d be happy to work for you or the Thorstons while we’re at port. ” 

Hiccup smiles, inclining his head. “I appreciate the risk you all took. And… I believe there’s some land available near the Thorston’s if you’d like to build a place to stay while you're here.” 

Eret grins, trying to sound casual. “Well, I suppose that sounds all right.”

Hiccup laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “Welcome back, dragon rider.”

 

 

 

_These are the hands of fate_

_You’re my Achilles heel_

_This is the golden age of something good and right and real_

 

 

 

Everyone wants Haddock red to outfit the baby on the way so they’re replenishing the stock of Madder dyed yarn when the door wrenches open. 

Tuffnut grins, shocked and delighted, and looks over at his motionless sister. 

She just stares as if he's a ghost, wet skeins of yarn halfway to the line. 

Eret approaches her slowly, smiling tentatively. “Well, I know I haven’t shaved or bathed properly yet, but I was hoping you wouldn’t mind too much.” 

The yarn hits the floor with a wet plop and she’s crying when she leaps at him. Her hands stain the sides of his face and neck red as she kisses him- she obviously doesn’t care about the beard or the smell.

Maybe it's less than perfect but it feels pretty darn amazing anyway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art book describes Eret ambiguously as a “northern pirate”, and because of the amount of fur (and lack of armor) him and his men wear compared to any other Viking we’ve seen in the series, it seems obvious to me that he’s well, _not?_ (Also his ship design is completely unlike most of Drago’s fleet or any Viking ships we’ve seen.) 
> 
> I also wanted to explore what immigrating to Berk might feel like, since fandom sort of handwaves it. There are a lot of choices to navigate, and leaving behind the place and people you grew up with is never easy (and arguably, never complete), even if you heartily embrace the new. 
> 
> Lyrics interspersed throughout are from Taylor Swift’s "State of grace", Red (2012)  
> Writer: Taylor Swift. Copyright: Sony/ATV Tree Publishing, Taylor Swift Music


End file.
